Page 38 of The Captain of Betrayal
Without waiting for the butler to reply, the Duke of Everleigh set forth, with the assured confidence that only a man of his title could possess, calling out for Livingstone.
James' Uncle was quick to show himself, emerging from his library and grumbling about the racket. He had obviously thought that he would meet one of the servants, for when he spotted James, flanked by a Duke and a Viscount, Arthur stopped dead in his tracks.
"Goodness," Livingstone said as he took in the sight of James, "We thought you were dead."
"Hoped, more like," James replied coolly.
His nerves, such as they had been, had disappeared at the sight of his devious uncle. The memory of how Arthur Livingstone had calmly explained to the Dowager Countess how he intended his nephew to die, sparked a fire of anger in James' stomach. The man who stood before him had taken everything from James, before he was even born, and now James intended to take it back.
"What a peculiar thing to say," Arthur Livingstone said, mopping his bald pate with a handkerchief, as he glanced, with bulging eyes between the three men. "Why on earth would I hope that you were dead?"
"Because I am the Earl of Ludlow," James responded smoothly.
He had expected a bigger reaction from his Uncle; heated denials, shouting, or even violence, but his Uncle merely stared at him coldly.
"That's preposterous," Livingstone said, looking at the Duke and Lord Keyford as he spoke. "What nonsense has this young man been filling you both with? His mother was no more than a lightskirt, who ran away with my brother thirty years ago. She was happy enough to take a bag of gold, to be rid of poor Horace, but it seems her son has ideas above his station."
James was upon his uncle before he had a chance to even think of what he was doing. His fist connected with Livingstone's smug face and would have connected again, had the Duke not pulled him back.
"Hold back, Ludlow," Everleigh urged, "He's not worth soiling your hands on."
James had not noticed that the Duke had referred to him by his title, until Arthur Livingstone gave a howl of amused laughter.
"You think that by calling him Ludlow, that will prove anything?" Arthur questioned, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. His lip was bleeding and the blood soon reappeared, causing Arthur to curse.
"No," Everleigh shook his head. "I will concede that me referring to James by his rightful title proves nothing, but luckily there is proof absolute, written in the marriage registry of the parish of St Jarvis."
"You lie," Livingstone sneered, but James sensed a little fear behind his words.
"No, it's you who is the liar, Uncle," James replied, stifling a grin, "And an arsonist to boot. Perhaps you thought you had destroyed all evidence of my parent's marriage, when you burned down the vestry? But what you didn't know was that, thanks to an absent-minded vicar, the current register was not inside when you set it alight."
"In Latin, what we have is calledRes ipsa loquitur,"Lord Keyford interjected, his low, gravelly voice adding a weight of sobriety to the proceedings. "Though, I am still rather curious as to why you felt the need to kill poor Horace?"
"What?"
It was as though Keyford had slapped Livingstone across the face. The man visibly reeled in shock, his skin taking on a ghost like pallor that was almost worrying. Livingstone took a few steps backward, leaning his ample frame against the wall and clutching at his chest.
James waited, wondering what his Uncle would have to say to the accusation, though Livingstone did not have a chance to reply before another figure appeared in the hallway.
Edward, James' half brother, was a shadow of the teenage boy James had last seen. His face was gaunt, his eyes almost dead in his skull and he was so thin, it was almost painful to look at him. Despite his sickly appearance, however, it was easy to discern that he was related to Arthur Livingstone. Both men were bald, bar a ring of blonde hair that circled their heads like a monk'stonsure, and both men had the same watery eyes above near identical pinched faces. The resemblance was so strong, that at once, the reason for all of Arthur's misdeeds became clear.
"You wanted your son to inherit the title," James whispered, as realisation dawned on him, "That's why you did it."
"I don't know what you're referring to," Livingstone bristled, casting a panicked glance at Edward who rolled his eyes.
"Give it up," Edward said, a sardonic smile stretching the papery thin skin of his face. "You've ruined enough lives with your treachery, dearUncle."
James had not expected that his brother would take his side, but as Edward glared at Livingstone, he recognised the hatred in the young man's stare.
"You knew?" James asked.
"I only discovered my parent's dirty secret the night that you disappeared," Edward replied with a disinterested shrug. "I found them canoodling in the drawing room, discussing how they hoped that you would be killed off in France. Much easier to have someone else murder him, than to have to get your hands dirty again, eh father?"
"So, he did kill Horace," Keyford exclaimed, advancing angrily on Arthur Livingstone, who had shrank to half his size as he cowered against the wall. The Duke held out an arm to keep Keyford from progressing any further; they needed him to confess and he would not be able to if he was being pummelled by Keyford.
"Smashed his head in with a brick," Edward helpfully supplied, his insolent gaze resting on his father, "After Ludlow caught him and Mamain flagrantein the library. Poor Horace, he didn't deserve that."
"Poor Horace?" Arthur Livingstone sprang back to life at the mention of his dead brother's name. "Do you think Horace was a good man? He would have squandered the entire estate away and he near ruined the family name by marrying that common trollop. For all his proclamations that he was in love, all it took to persuade him to leave was a vague whisper that the marriage was invalid because the banns hadn't been published and a word or two about the former lovers that Flora Black had taken."
